Thursday, September 20, 2012

Mary Andrews

For over two
decades Mary has sought out and studied writing from too many mentors to list. She
is an unconventional thinker who thrives ‘out of the box.’ Her favorite
question is: WHY, since that answer, enables all solutions. She claims little
fear of change: in fact, she has adventured through multiple career choices,
testing many waters and distant horizons before finally realizing a love for
writing.

Currently the
director of the Write Right Critique Group in Lubbock, Texas, Mary continues to
follow her muse, or rather, document its whereabouts, from a recreational past
through the Society for Creative Anachronisms to the barely unfolding universes
in her mind.

She heartily invites one and all to visit her
website’s writer’s resources page as well as read samples of her work at http://FirebornChronicles.com

Everyone has times when life and circumstances can become
overwhelming. (In these hard times, for many it’s becoming a common place
thing.) Quite a while back I found myself in an insurmountable position. I’d
lost my job, rent was almost due and there was no hope in sight. I had
an old Honda Civic and a dead Skylark in the yard.

It did not take any imagination to realize once I fell
behind one rent check, I’d never be able to catch up. Every night I waded into
and wallowed in a sea of inescapable doom. I was miserable, and prone to enough
stress related ailments (allergies, asthma, ulcers in my eyes) to realize I
would have to find a more unconventional way to deal with my financial problem
before it manifested in my deteriorating health.

During one of my usual sleepless nights as I was staring at
where the ceiling should be in my darkened room, I had an epiphany; if I
weren’t weighed down by my bills, I would be able to get back up on my feet and
reboot. Strangely enough, a million pounds of worry began to melt away as the
pieces of my plan fell into place. The next morning, I began the process of
closing up shop. I gave notice to the landlord, the utilities, the phone
company and I began to pack up my three bedroom house.

Surprisingly enough, I found that a 10x10 foot storage room
contained more than enough space to hold all my precious possessions—especially
if packed to the ceiling. At the front of the piles I placed a couple of
wardrobe boxes where I could reach them.

I’d decided to go ‘light and lean.’

I got rid of the dead Skylark and turned my attention to my
little Honda Civic. It had a fold down back seat which provided me with enough
space to take my act on the road in relative comfort. I folded and stacked all
my blankets together to form a makeshift mattress and threw my pillows around
as well. With the addition of a simple piece of cloth it remained
inconspicuous.

Next, I went to a store and bought the darkest tinted roll
of window tint I could find. This I applied to all the side windows. Then I
positioned an old trunk alongside my bed and viola, my new dresser was born.

Now, I don’t know how it is in other parts of the country, but
Lubbock, TX is a college town and it did not take me long to realize that
across from every major park there would be some sort of apartment complex from
which parking would overflow so there were always assorted cars parked there.
It was perfect. All I had to do was wait until after dark and I had a place to
sleep. Mwuahahaha! It all fell together.

A friend offered to serve as a message phone and address for
work applications but a post office box worked for mail.

So each day convenience stores provided morning and evening
pit stops as needed. I had planned to use truck stops for showers but, as it
turned out, several of my friends offered theirs and by rotating each visit,
none of them felt put out. In fact, some of them actually wined and dined me so
I wouldn’t head back to the car. They offered me couch space or temporary
shelter but in my experience, the old ‘fish and company’ rule is
irrefutable--both start to stink after three days.

I suppose most of my friends thought my month-long homeless
stint was a horrible, horrible feat of desperation, but in truth, each night
right after dark when I slipped into the back of my car and safely locked
myself in for the night, I leaned back and looked out across a pristine park
full of trees wafting in the breeze under a silver moon before the man-made
pond…complete with ducks.

I slept worry free knowing eventually there would be a new
start somewhere.

I discovered that people only see what they expect to see.
The early morning joggers never noticed me as they passed by. Even the late
night group of partying college boys, drinking beer and telling tales while
sitting on the hood of my car never realized I was there.

I worked temporary jobs, visited the library, checked out
the mall, wrote in the park, visited friends—all things I never seemed to have
time for when I lived in a house. I targeted a place I wanted to work and every
Friday at three P.M. I would call and ask the secretary if they were ready to
hire me. Eventually, they told me yes and I went back to work and normalcy.

Hopelessness and frustration can be debilitating. Perhaps I
was lucky, but ‘out of the box’ thinking definitely set me free then and, just
to be sure, my next car was a van. I believe I resorted to variations of my
light and lean way of life a time or two afterwards—once accompanied by my two
very well trained Dobermans.

So when things start to get you down, think of me and my
wacky adventure then take a step out of your box and look around with fresh
eyes. Have you missed something?